


Belated

by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Just a little bit of Angst, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, happy birthday bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10217027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygreen/pseuds/leveragehunters
Summary: In the middle of the war, Steve has a birthday present for Bucky, one he never manages to give him. After the ice, after the Winter Soldier, when Bucky finally comes home, Steve tries again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bucky's one hundredth birthday (and I only just made it!). Takes place in an AU where none of the movies after CA: Winter Soldier happened and Bucky found his way back to Steve.

Steve had used a combination of charm (which he _did_ have, shut up, Bucky), and trading favours to be named later, to scrounge up an unopened block of chocolate. Not the tasteless, for-emergencies-only blocks in their rations, but _actual_ chocolate, sweet and smooth and worth more than he cared to think about. Those favours were going to come due soon enough.

They'd be worth it though.

There was no way he could find a cake for Bucky's birthday, but this would be almost as good. He'd grabbed a candle, plain white and half-burned away, and glued it with a bit of wax into a tin mug. He'd scouted out a clear spot in a copse of trees where they'd have some privacy.

Because he had a present for Bucky.

Maybe.

If his nerves didn't fail him.

They had every other time, but Steve thought he'd narrowed down the problem: words. He'd been trying to use _words_ and there were no words Steve could muster that could capture the feelings that slammed into him when he looked at Bucky. When he thought about Bucky. When Bucky laughed, or smiled, or gave him shit in a million different ways. This time, he was going to skip the damned words and _show_ Bucky, let him decide what to do.

Steve was pretty sure Bucky wouldn't sock him in the jaw. Steve was pretty sure Bucky was going to give him his gift right back.

But only pretty sure. He figured jaw-socking still had a maybe five percent chance. Hence the nerves crawling up his spine and down his legs and dancing around in his bones and his gut like butterflies.

"You all right there, Steve? You're fidgetin' like you've got ants in your pants."

"Fine, Buck. Just wondering if you're gonna like your present." Steve threw a quick smile over his shoulder and led the way to the clearing. The tin mug was where he'd left it, the sad little candle leaning at an angle. Bucky smirked when he saw it.

"You're a damn sap, is what you are." Bucky sat down with a tired sigh and looked expectantly up at Steve. "Well come on, lay it on me."

For one moment, Steve gaped at him, since that was _exactly_ what he was planning to do, then shook it off. "Sure of yourself, aren't you?" he asked, settling next to Bucky. "Maybe all you get is a lopsided candle."

"And a mug," Bucky pointed out, then elbowed him. "Except I know you. You dragged me out here, that means you've got something for me." With a long-suffering sigh, Steve pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, leaned forward and lit the candle, which blazed cheerfully. "Oh, look at that. _Fire_. What a great present."

"Shut up, you jerk."

"Nice. Nice way to talk to someone on their birthday." He elbowed Steve again, harder this time. "Come on, give."

Shaking his head in mock-disappointment, Steve pulled the block of chocolate from under his jacket and held it out. "Not that you deserve it."

Bucky's eyes lit up with delight. "Steve! Where did you get this?"

"Doesn't matter where. I couldn’t get you a cake, so this was the next best thing."

"Are you kidding me? This is a hell of a lot better than a damn cake." He peeled back the paper, exposing a corner of the chocolate, and broke off a single square, popping it into his mouth with a groan. Steve's fingers clenched. "Steve, this is so _good_."

"It really is," Steve said softly, voice low. Bucky glanced at him, studied him, eyes sharpening. Steve cleared his throat. "Glad you like it."

Bucky was still watching him, head tilted slightly, eyes intent. He held out the chocolate. "Want a piece?"

"No." He reached out and folded Bucky's fingers over the bar, Bucky's gaze following his hand before returning to his face. "It's yours." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was like being back in Stark's plane, about to leap into the darkness after Bucky, not knowing what would be waiting. "There's something else."

"Yeah?" The corner of Bucky's mouth was curled and his eyes were bright, the way they used to get when Steve was a kid and about to do some damn fool thing Bucky knew he couldn't stop. Some damn fool thing Bucky _wouldn't_ stop.

Moving slowly, so Bucky would have all the time in the world to pull away, Steve pressed the tips of his fingers against Bucky's cheek, gentle, careful, conscious of his strength. He almost couldn't breathe as Bucky leaned into the touch. "Yeah."

There was a tiny curve to Bucky's lips, not quite a smile, and Bucky was leaning into him, Steve could feel warm breath ghosting over his skin, every beat of his heart was Bucky's name and—

" _Captain_?" The voice, calling through the trees, jolted Bucky backwards and he leapt to his feet.

"Bucky?" Steve was on his knees, looking up at Bucky, one hand reaching out, reaching up.

"It's okay, Steve." Careful fingers brushed his. "There'll be other chances," he said, closing his hand around Steve's for the briefest moment and then he was putting distance between them. "Over here," Bucky called as Steve stood.

A Colonel's aide he vaguely recognised appeared through the trees. "They need you, Captain."

"Coming."

Bucky grabbed the mug and blew out the candle, fell into easy step with Steve as they followed the aide back to camp.

Steve tried, but he couldn't find another chance, time slipping through his fingers. No privacy, nowhere Steve could be sure they'd be alone, they'd be safe, and then there was no more time.

There were no more chances.

Steve lost him.

Bucky was gone.

 

* * *

 

Bucky came home.

They'd scoured the world looking for him, but you couldn’t find a legendary ghost assassin if he didn't want to be found. And when he decided he wanted to be found, he'd come to you.

He wasn't exactly Bucky anymore and this wasn't really home. But Steve wasn't really Steve anymore, either. Not the Steve he'd been before he lost Bucky, before he crashed into the ice and lost his world, and sometimes _home_ was just the closest you could get.

It was a hell of a lot closer with Bucky there.

Closer, but not easier.

None of it was easy.

But Steve was a stubborn asshole who'd never once learned to back down from a fight and Bucky wasn't _broken_. Bent, fractured, reshaped in ways that could never be undone, but not broken. "Learned that from you," he muttered one night when he sought refuge from nightmares in the corner of Steve's bedroom, back against the wall.

"Long as you learned something."

Cracked laughter swirled through the darkness. "Punk."

Steve just smiled.

It took years, but every day saw Bucky unfolding more and more into a kind of peace. Every day gave Steve glimpses of the man he used to be intertwined with the man he was now, Bucky's memories settling into a new home.

Steve held him up until Bucky could stand on his own two feet, until he didn't _need_ Steve anymore, and on that day Steve realised he loved him just as much as he ever had.

Not for the Bucky he used to be, nostalgic memories of a man forever gone, but for everything he was now. Everything he'd made of himself, refusing to surrender to terror and pain and horror that would have destroyed anyone else. But not Bucky. Not his Bucky.

 _Not_ his Bucky.

But maybe he could be.

 

* * *

 

The party was, according to Tony, going to be epic, but it was Bucky's one hundredth birthday; Steve wasn't going to argue with him. If anyone deserved an epic one hundredth birthday party, it was Bucky.

But for now, for this, Steve wanted privacy.

He'd found an old tin army mug online and scrounged a plain white candle from an emergency kit. The ever helpful internet had told him that Hershey's had manufactured chocolate for the US army during the war, so he had a block of their chocolate.

Nothing was _exactly_ the same, except for his nerves. Except for the butterflies. Steve guessed they must have gotten a dose of the serum, survived the ice right along with him.

He melted a bit of wax, used it to glue the candle in the mug, then slipped the chocolate into a drawer and rested his forehead on the kitchen counter. "Fighting aliens was easier," he muttered. There were probably—definitely—simpler ways of doing this. Asking came to mind, or maybe just sitting next to Bucky on the couch and planting one on him—Steve didn't think there was even a five percent chance of getting socked in the jaw.

But this felt _right_.

 _So suck it up, Rogers._ It was completely unfair that he heard that in Bucky's voice.

Steve stood straight, squared his shoulders, and pushed out through the kitchen door. Bucky was sitting on the couch—not like a normal person, _never_ like a normal person: he had his legs hooked over the back, his head dangling off the seat, a book held above his face in his metal hand. Steve watched him for a minute, smiling softly, then cleared his throat.

Bucky lowered the book and raised an eyebrow at him. "Something you want?"

So many things. "Come into the kitchen with me for a minute?"

"It's my birthday, shouldn’t _you_ be bringing things to _me_?"

"You're getting a whole party later, it won't kill you to give me five minutes."

Bucky studied him and Steve had to fight the urge to fidget, to look away. "You're up to something."

"Bucky. Trust me, will you?"

He broke into a smile. "Always." He marked the spot in his book, set it down, and flipped to his feet, following Steve into the kitchen. As he walked through the door and saw the candle in the mug, he stopped. "Steve?"

"I don't know if you remember, but—" Steve pulled a lighter out of the drawer and lit the candle, the flame burning merrily away.

There was a long silence, Bucky staring at the flickering candle, then he moved closer, looking between the flame and Steve. "You did this before. On my birthday."

"Yeah, Buck, I did."

"And you were dancin' around like you had ants in your pants."

Steve grinned. "I was."

"There was something else."

"There was." Steve pulled the block of chocolate out of the drawer and presented it to Bucky with a flourish. "Because I couldn't get you a cake back then."

He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers across the wrapper. "It looked different."

"They don't make them in the same packaging anymore. Even if I could have found one, I don't think you would have wanted to eat it." Steve nudged his hand. "Go on, try it." Bucky peeled back the paper, unpicked the foil, and broke off a square, sniffed it, then bit off a corner. His eyes fluttered, then he blinked and looked sharply at Steve. "Is it okay?"

"It's good." Bucky set it down on the counter. "But there was something _else_." He moved closer, feet sliding across the floor, graceful and almost predatory. Steve was mesmerised. "Something better than chocolate."

"I dunno, Buck. Real chocolate was pretty good back then."

"No, this was better. Would have been better." The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes were bright. Expectant.  

"Yeah?" The butterflies were dancing, beating against his gut, or maybe that was his heart, Steve didn't know, but Bucky nodded and Steve lifted one hand to touch his cheek, feeling rough stubble under his fingers. He remembered the first time he'd done this as if it had just happened, as if it was happening _now_ , and Bucky's face was so different. Stronger, harsher. Steve kept his touch gentle but he didn't need to worry about his strength like he had back then. He still couldn't breathe as Bucky leaned into his touch. "Bucky."

"You should give me my present now." The words were solemn but Bucky's eyes were dancing and suddenly there were no butterflies, no nerves, just a stunning moment of _right_ as he kissed Bucky. He'd thought it would be a question, but it wasn't. It was a promise, a declaration, Bucky's lips warm under his as he pressed closer, winding his arms around Steve's neck as opened his mouth under Steve's and Steve was lost, the whole world floating away.

Even super soldiers have to breathe and Bucky pulled back, just far enough to allow for oxygen, and Steve smiled, knowing it was probably dopey as hell and not caring in the slightest. "Better than chocolate?"

Bucky freed one hand from around Steve long enough to waggle it in the air and Steve dug his fingers into the ticklish spot under Bucky's ribs, making him yelp and grab Steve's hand. "Better than chocolate. Better than anything." He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth and whispered, "I told you we'd have another chance," against his skin

Steve closed his eyes and pulled Bucky closer. "You did."

"See, you should always listen to me."

If Steve's laugh was a bit shaky, they both ignored it. "I love you, you jerk."

"I love you, too." Bucky's voice was deep and low, the words resonating through Steve.

"Happy birthday, Bucky." He was brimming over with joy, had to kiss him again, and again, and once more, Bucky returning each one enthusiastically. "Sorry it's a bit late."

"That's okay." Bucky cupped Steve's cheek with his metal hand and his eyes were warm and bright. "It was worth waiting for."   

 


End file.
